When Did You Know Jesus Was with You?
I was on the phone with a friend the other night when she asked me a question. After I answered, she paused and said, “You should write about this. You should share it.” So, I guess… here it goes. I didn’t even know this was a thing, but after talking with her, she told me she had only met two people like this in her whole life so far – two people who just “knew Jesus from the beginning.” I had never thought of it as a big deal. Not really. I didn’t think there was anything unusual about it. But as I told her this little story, she stopped me and said I needed to get off the phone and write it immediately. Like, asap. lol
My friend asked me when I asked Jesus into my heart – when I knew He was really with me. I hesitated, because when I was twelve, I went to a youth group camp with a friend, and that was the moment I did all the things you’re supposed to do. I asked Jesus into my heart. I confessed my sins. I promised to follow Him for the rest of my life. And unlike everyone else in the room, I wasn’t on the floor bawling my eyes out.
There wasn’t some overwhelming emotional breakthrough for me, because I already knew Jesus. Like… forever. Still, that moment was important. I remember the date. After all, I did promise my life to Him right then and there. And yet, even as I told her this, I knew something bigger had happened long before that camp ever existed.
See, when I was very young… as far back as I can remember, maybe five years old- my grandpa was dedicated to taking me to Sunday school. Rain or shine. We went to Montclair Lutheran Church. I loved the way that church smelled, like a candle had just been blown out. It was a small white building with a steeple on top, and when you walked inside, I always imagined it looked like Noah’s ark, but upside down. Its deep wooden bones held together, sheltering us all.
There was a quiet, powerful beauty to it. Rich wood. Deep reds. White candles trimmed with flowers and front and center, in gold, was the cross. The church was old and ancientness- that feeling was real to me even as a child.
I was always sent downstairs to the basement and kitchen area for Sunday school. It was simple. Cold. Hard floors that, in my memory, were very brown. We would sit together, sing, read stories, pray, and then break off into our grades. Large brown curtains were pulled to give the illusion of separate rooms.
When Sunday school was over, we were free to run. We always ran straight to the top floor and baloney, where the large organ was. An older woman played it – oh, how I wish I could remember her name. She was the kindest lady. She always had candy. We flew up the stairs, and she was always waiting, happy to hand some out to all of us.
Then it was time for regular church. I would sit perfectly quiet and still. Standing when told. Kneeling when told. Repeating words from memory, I didn’t fully understand, over and over, while my grandparents kept a close and watchful eye.
But there was one Sunday that was different. Not wildly different – just enough. That morning, I went down to the basement like I had so many Sundays before and took a seat on the cold floor. Our teacher began reading a story, and before she finished, she stopped and said, “Kids, I know this is hard to imagine right now, but Christians have been killed for loving Jesus. And as you get older, it will only get worse. People will hate you because you love Jesus Christ.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Why would anyone hate anyone? In my head, I asked, God, is this true? And He answered me. Simply. Clearly. “Yes. It’s true.”
The teacher went on to explain other things – how to pray, not just to say thank you for your mom and dad, but to ask Jesus to keep you safe. To ask Him to guide you, protect you, and watch over you. To me, this was all new. I had never asked Jesus for anything before. My prayers had always been full of gratitude. I was thankful for everything.
But now, after hearing this… and after hearing Jesus Himself confirm it – I realized I needed to ask for protection and guidance. So, I did. I don’t remember my exact words, but I remember hearing Jesus speak to me, and I wasn’t surprised in the least. He told me He would lead me. He would protect me. Hard times would come, but He would never leave me.
When class ended, I ran to my grandpa and told him what had happened. He smiled and gently brushed it off with, “Aww, that’s nice, sweetie.”
At the time, I did think it was kind of cool that I was having a two-way conversation with Jesus. But I didn’t think I was special- if that makes sense. I honestly thought it happened to everyone. If anything, I was more concerned by what the teacher had said about Christians being hated. I didn’t understand why anyone would hate someone for loving Jesus.
Over the years that followed, life did get harder. Sometimes wildly so. Through it all, Jesus was there. There were moments people could easily write off if they wanted to, but I knew the voice. The voice that said, don’t go that way. Stay home. Leave now. A knowing I couldn’t explain. Dreams I would have, and then the things that followed.
I asked questions about it – lots of them. Enough that I was eventually kicked out of two catechism classes for asking too much. I didn’t think I was psychic or anything like that. I was just a kid who knew something was happening and had read about spiritual gifts. I guess the Lutheran church didn’t care for that very much. Still, I needed guidance. I needed help. One thing I still believe with my whole heart is this: we should never stop asking questions.
Because of that experience, I stopped going to church for a while. But my faith didn’t stop. My love for Jesus didn’t stop. It grew.
Like Jesus had told me, hard times did come. Some of them were downright scary. They followed me into adulthood. There were moments when I wanted to die. More than once, and I thank God that I chose life. As a child, I was taken against my will and later made to believe it was my fault. I had to grow up very fast. Jesus was there with me through all of it. He saved me over and over again.
When the time was right, I chose to be baptized again. But this time by my own choice. August 13, 2023.
Skelly | fabricthatmademe
I have never not believed in Jesus. What I stopped believing in, for a time, was church. I eventually returned – slowly, carefully, and with skepticism. But being without my Bible? Without prayer? Without deep conversation with Jesus? Never.
People often say you get closer to God when you grow up or have children. However, that it changes you. But that hasn’t been my story. I have always been in relationship with Jesus. Like any real relationship, it has changed and grown. I was a child with Him once – joyful, curious, full of life. Then scared. Confused. Afraid. That turned into anger, sadness, doubt. High highs. Low lows.
He knew me the whole time.
But I got to know Him better as we walked through it together.
Now, mid-aged (cringe) – I am deeply in love with Jesus. I understand on some level the heartache He must have felt watching me hurt, because I know love now and I know the absence of it too. Also, I know this: the soul work matters so much. I spent a lot of time trying to understand myself, when what I really needed was to keep turning toward Him and caring for others. Faith was never meant to be about self-focus. It has always been about love in action, about service. Sadly, for a long time, I missed that.
What I was told that day when I was five by my Sunday school teacher, I now see unfolding in real time. Christians are being hated. Christians are being killed. Truly, what the world needs now more than ever is love. Service to one another. Love in action and yet, it still feels far too rare.
Still, I go back to the words Jesus spoke to me that day. Yes, it’s true. But He didn’t stop there. He told me He would lead me. He would protect me. Hard times would come, but He would never leave me.
What do I really have to worry about? If Jesus, the Lord of Lords, King of Kings – is the One leading me, protecting me through every season, good and bad, never leaving my side, then fear no longer gets the final word.
All that’s left for me to do is love in faith. Truth and love go hand in hand. As I finished my phone call with my friend, I found myself reflecting on how I would write all of this. I paused, so thankful for such a precious gift – to be this close to Jesus. I never realized that not everyone has been held this close to God- to hear Jesus.
No, it did not spare me from extreme danger or deep pain. But the way Jesus walked me through those moments to bring me to this very day is beyond what my mind can comprehend. The hurt didn’t destroy me. It sculpted me. It honed me, tuned my senses more closely to that frequency – the heavenly connection.
The Holy Spirit is that soul-connection to Jesus, a direct line to God Himself. The more I walked with Him – through hurt, pain, and everything in between – the stronger that connection became. The suffering didn’t do what some people thought it would. It didn’t make me walk away. It didn’t weaken my faith. I didn’t leave Jesus.
Everything that happened to me, I brought to Him. Life chipped away at me, and it was painful. But even that chipping became a beacon. A signal.
As I write this now, I understand the uniqueness of it all. I see how different it made me. Awkward. A little strange. Standing out in ways I didn’t always want to. Yet somehow drawing people in – whether I liked it or not. It’s a strange place to be. Loved and hated at the same time.
But I am grateful. Deeply grateful. Because the greatest gift I’ve been given is not comfort, or ease, or understanding. It is knowing Jesus. The goal has always been heaven.
Why me? I don’t know. It’s a question I have recently been asking myself a lot… either way…. I am glad He choose me.
God is so good.
SK–
Woven in the Fabric
What if someone asked you the same question my friend asked me?
When Did You Know Jesus Was with You?Not everyone’s story has a dramatic moment or a neat timeline. Some of us have known Him quietly, early, steadily- always. Others met Him in the middle of the mess. Some are still listening, still wondering if He’s there at all.
If you feel unsure where to begin, start here: talk to Him. Ask questions. Sit in the quiet. Listen. Faith doesn’t grow from having all the answers – it grows from relationship.
If this story stirred something in you, I invite you to reflect on your own. Write it. Share it. Or simply hold it in prayer. If you’ve never had a real conversation with Jesus, you can start today. He’s already listening and waiting for the invite. -Skelly
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